


Asymmetric

by lucymonster



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Banter, Bickering, F/M, Handcuffed Together, MayThe4th Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-04 13:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: Finn and Rey have very different ways of fighting, but they always have each other's backs when it matters.





	Asymmetric

**Author's Note:**

  * For [primeideal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/gifts).



As the echoes of the slamming cell door die down, a long stretch of silence falls. Finn doesn’t bother testing the cuffs that hold him back to back with Rey. The First Order is a flawed organisation for many reasons, but he knows as well as any trooper how close to perfection their restraint tech has soared.

That doesn’t mean he’s given up. He just needs a moment to think, is all. To think and breathe and process the cascade of split second fuck-ups that landed the two of them in this mess.

‘You shouldn’t have come after me,’ Rey snaps.

Finn, who’d been drawing breath to reassure Rey that their current predicament isn’t really her fault, instead baulks at the blatant accusation in her voice. ‘What the hell are you talking about? If I hadn’t come after you, you’d be dead already. You’re lucky I even know to follow, since you _shut off your comm in the middle of a fight_.’

Seriously. He wasn’t going to make a big deal about it, but losing comms is the kind of rookie mistake that any one of his past commanding officers would have crucified him for.

‘It was distracting me,’ Rey snaps. ‘Just like you were when you started spraying all those blaster bolts around like you didn’t give a damn who you hit. Why couldn’t you just aim properly and shoot one at a time?’

‘That was defensive fire! I was covering you! It’s a standard tactical–’ Finn breaks off. The handcuffs tighten painfully as Rey clenches her fists, and he has to remind himself that she never went to the academy. Everything Rey knows about combat, she learned by brawling over water in the desert or memorising a bunch of ancient books written in languages so dead that the computer can barely translate them. First Order standard tactical maneuvers weren’t a part of her curriculum. It’s no great surprise that she can’t read his mind in the heat of battle.

‘Okay,’ he tries again. ‘I’m sorry I caught you off guard and distracted you. At some point when we’re not busy getting killed, you and I should run some simulations. I can teach you some basic formations for asymmetric engagement, so we’re both on the same–’

‘Oh, please.’ Rey snorts, disgusted, and cranes her neck. Finn can’t see her while they’re tied back to back like this, but he thinks she must be trying very hard to glare at him. ‘I don’t need you teaching me how to fight. Maybe _I_ should teach _you_ some basic hand-to-hand so that your first response to every threat isn’t to clamp down on the trigger and waste all your ammo.’

‘We’re fighting ten thousand to one here, Rey. Conserving ammo isn’t top priority.’

‘No, you’re right. _Not getting captured_ is top priority, and just look how well that’s working out for us.’

‘If you hadn’t charged off on your own–’

‘If you hadn’t given away my position–’

They’re both cut off mid-sentence at the sound of heavy boots tramping towards them from outside the cell. Their interrogator, presumably. Or their executioner.

‘You know,’ says Finn, heaving a sigh, ‘this isn’t how I pictured things when I fantasised about bringing some handcuffs into our relationship.’

Rey snorts again. Less angry, this time. ‘I don’t need my hands to fight. But this whole place is teeming with armed stormtroopers, and I don’t know how far we’ll get with no weapon except the Force.’

‘Yeah, well, _now_ you’re glad you brought me with you. I know this place like the back of my hand – I can take us out through the maintenance tunnels and circumvent all the main patrol routes.’

Without being able to see Rey’s face, he knows she’s smiling. The footsteps sound closer now, and they’re both tensing up, scanning the room, getting ready to fight.

‘This is still your fault,’ Rey says.

‘Nuh-uh. Yours.’

That’s all they’ve got time for before the cell door swings open. For the next frantic, stumbling, off-balance while, they’re both too busy learning how to move in sync while cuffed together to worry about who caused which part of what predicament.

And if, much later on, the argument happens to get lost amid the euphoric celebrations of their wildly unlikely escape from the First Order’s jaws – well, who’s to blame them?


End file.
